I couldn’t agree more, yet I’d also add that I think most people are as my statement suggests. No one is merely flesh and bone.
Oh, yes, I think that’s true, too. Sometimes, some people are more open than others, though. A bit more obvious. Though, no one walks around with no masks on at all. Everyone’s hiding at least one aspect of themselves, I think, despite whether or not the choice to hide it is rational or even intentional.
I was considering it. It was either that or wait until dinner and eat extra.
You might be able to get more options of food later? Maybe? Unless there’s some secret things they serve you only if you go directly to the kitchens. Although, it seems something like that would get out eventually and then everyone would want to sneak into the kitchens.
Most especially people.
I think that maybe some of the best kinds of people are the ones that statement can be applied to.
Quite the romantic fourth years.
I’m not too surprised. Young hearts and minds are fragile and dramatic. I think. Probably. It would make sense. To— To me, anyways.
That. Is. Beautiful. Bless your soul Little Hopkirk.
I’m glad you like it.
Merlin, I wish. Any way we could get there?
We could start by looking for blue police boxes.
"I can’t imagine anyone in the castle walking around looking for someone playing music." He watch curiously as she took at seat on the bench next to him, perched on the edge as though she was going to run off at any moment. He was unsure why she looked so uncomfortable, she didn’t normally seem uncomfortable around him, and with him being the only other person in the room it didn’t make any sense. He quickly began to run though all their recent interactions in his mind, looking for something he might have done to change their interactions, but seemed to be coming up short.
His train of thought was broken when he heard sound ring throughout the room. He nodded slightly. “Yes, you can hope though it would not be logical to assume.” He added quietly, nodding in acknowledgment to her next statement. He let his knees drop from his chest, straightening his back before placing his fingers back on the keys. They began to run across them on their own, playing any notes they’d become accustomed to. “You can stay if you want.” He told her as he continued to play softly. “You’re not going to bother me.” With that he turned his full attention back to the keys, restarting the song which had been interrupted previously. Jackson’s eyes never left the keys, his fingers easily reaching around her to hit the right notes.
"I wouldn’t imagine that many people do," Selma said. She spoke on an exhale, trying to relax, ease herself of whatever tension she was feeling. She still wasn’t sure why she felt tense at all. She imagined that her nervousness was somewhat confusing for Jackson, who was ever so observant, but whom Selma couldn’t imagine being able to understand her nervousness unless there was a rational, specific reason for her to be on edge, and, at the moment, there wasn’t.
"I try no to assume things, ever, really," Selma added. She hoped she wasn’t carrying on the subject for too long. She did that sometimes. "When one assumes things," she continued, "It can lead to misunderstandings and disappointment." She wasn’t sure why she said that. It seemed like something of a pointless comment to her looking back. Even more mysterious was why she was even thinking these things around Jackson. She normally didn’t dwell on the little things that she said to him, as she trusted him not to judge her too terribly if she said something that was unnecessary or that didn’t really make too much sense. She’d said plenty of things like that, so she thought he was probably used to odd, random trains of thought conducted by her by now.
When he started to play again, she was made slightly uncomfortable, as before, overcome by a fear of disturbing him. She glanced behind her, thinking whether or not staying would be better or worse than leaving. As much as she wanted to be around him and to watch and listen to him play, she’d hate to bother him more than anything. As soon as he began to speak again she wondered if maybe he could read her mind or something because he told her exactly what she wanted to know. Other times, she might’ve thought that “You’re not going to bother me” was only being said to be polite, but from what she knew of Jackson, though he didn’t talk much, when he did, it was to say nothing short of what was true, necessary, and sometimes brutally honest. So she accepted his invitation to say, and watched as he navigated the keys. She wasn’t sure what to do other than watch him, so that’s what she did. She watched, sometimes looking at his hands, sometimes looking at his face, concentrated and almost distant seeming. She wondered how someone so invested and concentrated could be disturbed by something as subtle as the click of a door. She wondered a lot of things, but she didn’t say any of them. As she watched his fingers move around the keys, she became somewhat distracted, hypnotized, even, and failed think of the possibility that he might need to play higher octaves, and reach the keys that she was sitting in front of. So, when his hand casually slipped past her to hit the higher keys, she was slightly startled, and moved back from the keyboard slightly. She didn’t understand how it was he remained focused and undisturbed, because she felt like she was doing the equivalent of lying in the middle of a road while cars were trying to drive somewhere very important, but she took his word that she wasn’t disturbing him, and went along watching his eyes dart across the keyboard with his fingers moving equally quickly. That was something she thought she might be able to watch all day, because his eyes were blue and perfect and she couldn’t figure out why but there was something so fascinating about watching his fingers move. And she might have really been able to watch them all day, she thought, because he was so invested in the music that maybe, he wouldn’t notice if she did.
Most things look similar at the first glance, it isn’t until someone takes the proper amount of time to notice an individual object that it is seen for what form it truly is.
…That’s a very accurate statement. I think that can be applied to people too.